


What The Water Gave Me

by meeokie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coming of Age, Deer God Shiro, If you read between the lines there might be a hint of sheith for you, Keith is mentioned but not present, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Ritual Sex, There is consent but slightly dubious due to the situation, human/god relations, magic lube?, shance, ye olde village and forest AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeokie/pseuds/meeokie
Summary: He woke violently, trembling and covered in a layer of cold sweat, unable to determine at first if the scream which came from his mouth had happened here amongst his bedding or elsewhere, in his mind. Only silence came after a few beats, after a few agonizingly long moments of catching his breath and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding it all.The shaking eased on its own but not as fast as he’d like, his fingers skittering through damp locks as Lance held himself tight, alone in a room full of the sounds of gentle slumber. It didn’t seem to matter much whether he peered through the darkness or closed his eyes tight, he still saw it: The blaze of golden eyes through the trees. He’d seen them before, felt the wave of being watched bleed through his dream and into reality, too scared to turn and look out his window to the forest that mirrored his existence while he slept.





	What The Water Gave Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank everyone that had to listen to me yell about this idea, and then yell about writing it, and then help me fix it so it became something someone would want to read.
> 
> My loudest and largest hell yeah goes to [flyingisland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingisland/pseuds/flyingisland/works) for betaing this beast for me. Please, please go check out ALL of her work because I think all of her stuff could be published and printed as actual books.

He woke violently, trembling and covered in a layer of cold sweat, unable to determine at first if the scream which came from his mouth had happened here amongst his bedding or elsewhere, in his mind. Only silence came after a few beats, after a few agonizingly long moments of catching his breath and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding it all. 

His siblings would have heard some sort of commotion or yelling or fear rushing his mother into the shared room. Lance knew this well because it already occurred more than once now. Perhaps he was finally just used to the nightmare, or maybe it was something different this time?

The shaking eased on its own but not as fast as he’d like, his fingers skittering through damp locks as Lance held himself tight, alone in a room full of the sounds of gentle slumber. It didn’t seem to matter much whether he peered through the darkness or closed his eyes tight, he still saw it. Saw the blaze of golden through the trees, accompanied by a second beacon, as if they were further away but still close. He’d seen them before, felt the wave of being watched bleed through his dream and into reality, too scared to turn to the right and look out his own window to the trees that mirrored. The first set was known, had _made_ themselves known over and over but the second…

He considered laying back down; tomorrow was important, tomorrow was _the_ day that held the cumulation of all of his younger life. He shouldn’t be dealing with this recurring sinking feeling, this strange pull to stare past the trees and will himself to see something more ever since they’d consumed his best friend. As if he’d ever get over that. As if his Coming of Age day meant anything exciting now that he’d have to celebrate it alone, with his family, friendless and still wondering why. Why did he have to leave? Why hadn’t Keith at least warned him that he was leaving?

Probably because Lance would have tried to stop him, or insist he come with him, or worse, follow him. Everyone knew the weight of such a choice, every single person in the village.

The reasoning had been lost in the translation of time, but the customs remained. The old Gods were just that: old and no longer given the same attention, the motions of worship, mechanical by most, but insisted on even still. It was said that the wellbeing of the village was the responsibility of one such particular God, one that lived in the woods, one that did not like his woods to be intruded on. Those who wandered off the path, those who dared try to hunt, or even picked a single flower- they never returned. Children, in particular, were never to even consider it. The tales were hammered in the second a younger one could comprehend the words, and those words ruled with no opposition. 

Lance had never been out of the village. No one, until they turned of age, was allowed on the narrow path to the outside, to the rest of the world. The rule was instilled, he had heard, because the temptation to wander was too great at younger ages. Of age, one would be able to fully understand what would happen. If they still made that choice, so be it, but the knowledge that it was a death wish was well accepted. 

A death wish was not what Keith had. He was not the type, despite his rough upbringing. Until the very end, he was eager to come of age, talked about following the path and journeying out to lands they’d only ever read about. Explained to Lance how he’d bring him back shells from the ocean in time for his own Coming of Age.

Of course, now that it was that very day, the emptiness he felt in his hands and his heart was all too heavy. He couldn’t even remember the last thing he said that cold October night, had trouble remembering just how long Keith’s hair had gotten. Lance’s memory was foggy now; the wistful way Keith’s eyes would dart to the hidden trees, the few times he’d paused those weeks before that night like he was trying to find the source of someone spying on him. Such details were never a cause for concern because someone like Keith tended to be slightly on edge anyway. It wasn’t anything new.

But he’d been gone the next day. No note left, no indication of any struggle or issue. No tracks on the path to outside the village. Nothing but his dagger, its sheath hanging from one of the crumbling rock bases that surrounded the outer edges of the village.

It was then that Lance knew where he’d gone, for Keith never left the dagger anywhere but on his own person or under his bedding at night, his one remaining memory of his mother left.

It plagued him since that day, since Keith’s birthday until now, his own of Coming of Age day. Months and seasons had passed and every day Lance struggled to make sense of it: why would someone freely go into the forest knowing that they’d die? Did Keith know something that he didn’t want to share? Was he concealing a sadness that not even Lance could tell, so much that the very day his one version of freedom opening up meant that he’d rather end it all?

It didn’t make sense. The longer he dwelled on it, the more Lance questioned what it all meant. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his best friend was not dead, that he was somehow still safe, that he was _in_ those woods and what if he was just waiting? What if he’d found a new answer, a new rule that overrode the ones of old? What if he left his only keepsake for Lance to find, and all of this time nervously glancing through the trees was wasted because his one true friend was too scared to make that final step past those neatly stacked stones to figure it all out?

With a heavy sigh, Lance flipped his coverings off, still uncomfortably hot in his nightwear, sheer as it was during the midsummer months. His mind clearly had no plans of letting him sleep the rest of his first hours of birthday, too consumed with the loss of his best friend and the lingering urge to follow his dreams and look out past the safety of his family’s house to the woods that still urgently called to him.

And so he did.  
The fear came, but not how one would expect in such a situation. It rolled slowly, as if his mind was having trouble processing what was being seen. The thought came and left- how perhaps he was still dreaming, that he’d dreamt waking up and having all of those thoughts and he was stuck in some terrible loop, unable to wake up, unable to break through.

But Lance was of age now; he was stronger and wittier. He no longer ran and hid from the things that scared him. No, he simply avoided them as best he could, but this? This, he could not.

The gold was there, just like in his dreams. Steady and bright, like a beacon calling him and only him. This time, it was just one set. What called him was alone, and waiting. Lance knew they were eyes, he knew in his heart of hearts that it was the God of the woods. He knew that this was meant for him, that no other living being was seeing this, that not even his sleeping siblings could wake and see what Lance was in this moment. That even if he screamed, nothing would change. He felt stuck here, as if someone had paused everything, his whole life, just for this.

The unwavering, unblinking stare of something past his comprehension. 

Is this what Keith saw? Was he called as well? Did he leave strong and bold or was he as frightened as Lance was right now? 

Lance stole a shaky inhale, noticed the rest of him was shaking right along with it as he felt panic and realization mix uncomfortably inside him. He wanted to lay back down, cover his overheated body with his bedding and close his eyes as tight as he could and pretend everything was ok. Pretend he could wake in the morning and be greeted with presents and smiles on his most important day but he knew better. 

He feared those eyes coming closer. He could imagine them, peering from behind his wardrobe, threatening to steal away the youngest because he was too scared to leave on his own.

It wouldn’t come to that. Lance would do anything and everything to keep his family safe, even if that meant sacrificing himself so that they would be. 

Quietly, and without breaking his gaze, he slipped from his bed and padded forward on unsteady feet to the window. It slid open easily, and unlike every time before. It didn’t squeak and protest as he hefted the top part up to lock. He reached to brace on the cracked sill but found himself unable to follow through, unable to hoist his weight and take that final last step out of the protection of his home with those eyes staring so deeply at him.

Belatedly, Lance realized that tears were marking themselves down his cheeks. His fear was not surprising, but the weight of what he was tasked with now became too heavy for his body and mind. He wanted desperately to look back just once more, to know that everyone was safe and sleeping and to think that they’d miss him but that they would still grow up proper and strong-willed and be able to leave this place the right way. Leave through the one traveled road out and not like this. But he couldn’t; he couldn’t risk turning away. He feared death itself would fall upon him instantly, feared that such a thing would invoke a great wraith. He was not a religious boy, but one did not turn their back on a supposed God, he knew that much.

As soon as these conflicted thoughts drifted through his mind, the spotlights of gold melted. They twisted as if their owner was moving, the light bouncing against leaves and trunks until it was simply gone.

A benevolent God then? Or maybe just a final wish granted before his time would draw near. 

Silently, Lance hefted himself over the sill, wiping at his tears and curling his toes against the weather-worn wood of the only house he ever knew as he looked back, the darkness cloaking his family but the shapes and feelings all still bright and known. He saw the differences in shades of black, the small lumps of blankets and messy hair, the outlines of furniture he’d never see again, of memories he’d not get to make.

And still, he thanked the one that would surely end his life, because at least he was allowed this; at least it was understood that he’d give himself completely and with the most minimal regret.

Lance left. He left how he hoped Keith had, body mechanical as his bare feet felt wood give to stone and then grass. He left understanding that he was an adult now, today, and he’d been called for a reason, and he’d go because there was no other answer. If he did not, someone else would surely take his place and that wasn’t fair to the village, to his parents that had raised him.

Quietly, he shifted himself over the rocks, over the crumbling but secure border someone forgotten had built long ago. The edges were not high enough to keep anything out, but they didn’t need to be. It was here as a warning, a sign that this was the very end that anyone could chance. Lance slid over the smooth, cool surface and landed on the other side, his skin touching wildlife for the first time as if a plant on this side of the wall was somehow different or special compared to its counterpart mere inches within the village.

He took one step into the darkness and immediately realized his mistake. If only he’d thought to steal away a lantern. Even the cracked one that hung from the back shed would do just perfectly fine compared to what he had now: nothing. His fear quickly shifted to something more pressing, something like taking one wrong step and tumbling to his death down a ravine, or one wrong footfall onto a slumbering snake and being forced to feel his body seize slowly from poison. 

Lance fumbled a few more steps, grasping at branches as his eyes adjusted to a new darkness before he felt it once more, the feeling of being gazed upon, but this time it came with no signaling golden eyes.

He spun around in place, swearing to himself that the presence was behind him but nothing was there. In fact, all that he saw was the darkness and pattern of trees crisscrossing, the faint outline of bark and thinner branches and thick trunks. The silhouette of the wall was gone. The outline of his house was as if it were never there in the first place. He’d made five steps at most into this uncharted land and realized suddenly that he was utterly and hopelessly lost already.

Of course, he knew it made no sense; there was simply no way physically for him to separate himself from the small circle of his whole life. There was no possible way for him to stand here, slowly turning and turning and met with only the same thing over and over again: trees, darkness, and nothingness.

The tales they told never went this far. No one ever cautioned what one should do after they stepped foot here. No one ever came back to instruct on how to survive because, well, no one ever came back in general.

It was tempting- the thought to collapse here and now, to let the fat tears that threatened to come spill over and wait for death to arrive at him, but what good would that do? Lance couldn’t imagine that's what Keith would have done. No, he’d forge on, even with no knowledge of what that meant. Many times, even with the hint of fear obvious in his gaze, Lance had watched his best friend push through, and face his fears and uncertainties head-on. 

A sense of purpose washed through him and he gripped at a lone branch tighter, taking a moment to collect himself with deep breaths. He couldn’t change the fact that he was here, and he knew no matter how many new steps he’d take, the village would never come back into view. He was being watched still, from no understandable source, and it was probable that he’d be sacrificed to whatever hunted him, but that didn’t mean he had to sit idle. That didn’t satisfy the itch that Keith might still be alive, and that Lance could find him, if he just tried.

And so he tried. One foot in front of the next, careful for how each landed, cautious that when he pushed down, it was grass and sturdy root and not animal or sharp barbs. His hand slid from tree to tree, the fear of touching something unknown erasing each time he felt bark against his palm instead of something slimy or piercing. He’d surely laugh at himself if he could see it from a different perspective. This was the slowest and most inefficient form of travel but he dare not chance a desperate run unless a snapped neck was on his agenda. He hoped it would not be the case, no matter how fast or slow he was now.

Around him, somehow unnoticed, the woods remained fairly silent. All sounds came from Lance alone and the brush of leaves against his skin, the soft push of his toes against grass. There was no way for him to know that in this place, in this specific time, no animals resided. He could not see that the path was clear, that every step, no matter which direction he chose, would all lead to the same spot eventually. He could feel that a set of eyes still watched him, but the glow wasn’t needed to observe the slow, cautious way he tiptoed through this domain. 

Time was lost in a way that Lance could not understand. He expected danger. He expected pain and exhaustion and fear upon fear piling up. He expected to be found, maybe to be ripped apart or thrown atop a stone altar or worse yet, burned. And yet, all he was met with was the occasional rough patch of bark or a slightly pointed stone that felt uncomfortable under his bare feet.

It felt like nothing was happening, even with the ever-present gaze of the one who watched him. Was this a trap? An unseen maze or trial that he was failing spectacularly? Was he tasked to do this forever until his body gave out, as if the morning would never come? As soon as he had these desperate thoughts, his feet hit something different for the first time since he had arrived.

Pebbles, dusted and scattered into the grass. They slowly gathered together, overcoming the wildlife and giving way to a trail of sorts. With one single new step, Lance found himself able to see once again.

No explanation could ever begin to make sense of how or why. One moment was darkness and the next was not, a steady stream of what resembled the light of the moon illuminating the space and casting a clear sign for where he should go. The pebbles shone in the light, polished white and tan, sparkling in an enticing way that should accompany this sort of journey. The trees parted for this path, lined evenly at each side, narrow and rowed; unnatural for a wild forest. Lance looked up to find the source of light, only to be confused further. The trees enveloped above, branches reaching for each other, their leaves letting the light flicker through, but he could not see the sky he knew. No stars were hanging to show him the way back home.

The only way was clearly forward.

Hesitance remained heavy in his body, despite the way his mind scoffed at the fact. This was inevitable and he surmised that if he turned around and started to walk back, he’d only arrive right here once more, faced with the reality that this was all he could do. With one heavy, steadying sigh, Lance stepped fully onto the path, pausing to see if anything else new would pop out. When all he was left with was just the enveloping continued silence, he chanced another few steps, unaware that the rocks below him made no sound even as they shifted under his feet.

Gaining a sliver of confidence, he continued on at a more normal pace, slow and steady and ever-searching the rowed trees for those golden eyes. They never came, or at least never showed themselves. Before he knew it, the path drifted away and opened to something else. It was something that he should have been paying attention to, but he was still too fraught with impending doom to keep an eye out for the very thing in front of him.

Broad, thicker leaves smacked him right in the face, spooked him so bad that he stumbled back a few steps and braced for his demise before foolishly peeking through his fingers. A moment passed before Lance reached back out, slid the glossy, thick foliage out of the way and pushed at the ground beyond it, finding the path scattered instead with wider, flatter stones.

A fleeting thought came as he held his breath, one that seemed definite and consistent: it didn’t really matter what he chose, because here and now, his destiny was sealed.

He parted the way and pushed forward, expecting that the scene before him would be filled with the bones of those who had been foolish enough to come here on their own free will. Perhaps even Keith’s would be scattered, laid out fresh, or at least a cleaner white than the ones below.

Instead, he was greeted with what could only be described as an oasis. In the traditional sense, it was not one; no bright sands or tropical fauna skirted around the perimeter, no crystal clear water or overbearing sun above. 

Soft grass circled the clearing, falling way to softer compacted sand and then finally the shore of a pond. It looked small enough to wade through, although Lance was not very keen to try. Across the opening where he stood was a great tree unlike any other he had ever gazed upon. It infused itself into the ground, stark white bark and roots digging into the earth below, tendrils of it almost shining in the water until they dipped too deep to see anymore. The trunk itself was thick, marred with dark indents that resembled eyes. A distant memory supplied him with the fact that this was called birch, but something was off. The top didn’t match the rest of what he knew. The cascade of leaves looked just like a willow, broad and swaying, some reaching to the water’s surface and below. 

Why such a thing existed, lone and distinct in nature, was something Lance could not explain. The small area that had presented itself to him seemed to glow, similar to the path before, moonlight from a source he could not find. 

With nothing else to do, he took one more step forward, toes barely brushing the start of cool sand. Then something shifted the branches, something like a breeze that he saw but he could not feel. It became quiet, somehow more still than the silence that already surrounded him. 

It presented itself slowly, smoothly. It glided on impressive hooves as though that were natural. As though such movement was commonplace to any creature in the world and not frightfully abnormal to someone like Lance. Carefully, as if _he_ was the frightened animal that might flee at any moment, the one before him came into the light, its body gleaming and ethereal and terrifying all at once. A great deer stood, proud and knowing, at least twice the size of any deer that Lance had ever seen. Its coat was stark white save for a v-shaped flush of black at the crest of its chest, hooves a deep black and a thick crown of antlers grew from its head, intertwining and branching like a labyrinth no one could hope to escape from. Its eyes, wide and bright, the glow of gold so vivid that it cast itself outwards across white fur.

It stood to the side of the great confusing tree, gaze unblinking and focused on Lance and nothing else.

There was nothing he could do but stare back. Never in his life, never in any of the books Keith pilfered away and shared, never in any of their bedtime stories or handed-down lore, had he ever seen something like this.

He knew, of course. He could feel it down to his bones, in the shake that returned to his hands and the lump in his throat as he tried to breathe. All of the warnings, the teachings, those who had gone missing. This was why. No one could possibly remain alive long enough to record such an event.

Lance knew he was going to die here. At least the water was calming. It was a shame he and Keith never made it to the ocean that they spoke of finding some day.

The God of the Woods came forward, hooves splashing lightly into the pond before Lance, cutting through the water silently with its intent clear. Lance felt his resolve finally give, much like his body did in that moment of realization as his knees hit the cool compacted sand below. He wanted badly to look away, cowardice obvious in his mind but he couldn’t pull his gaze back. Those eyes, they felt familiar now; in his dreams, through the trees, and into his soul. 

He should say something with finality here, perhaps a prayer, a thanks to all of those who helped him live as long as he did, but those words disappeared from his lips before they could be voiced. He stayed there in a sloppy kneel, neck craned to stare at the great beast in front of him, and all he could think of even as he convinced himself otherwise was that he did not want this to be the end.

“Please. Please, I came because you called. I know what it means to enter your woods...I, I’m- fearful of death. I’m afraid of the pain.” Tears slipped down his cheeks, the golden gaze finally broken as he closed his eyes and hung his head. 

Lance knew it was foolish to beg and that his words would not be heard, but they came nonetheless. 

_I know of your death, young one- it is painless and it is not here._

It reverberated in his mind, the voice heavy and definite, distinctly human-sounding with a soft echo that seemed misplaced. Lance looked up in shock, mainly because this God was speaking to him in the first place but secondly because he’d never felt such a thing in his life. The meaning behind the words followed after, painful in the time comprehension sunk in and all he could offer back to the one who held his life here was a scared, “...what?”

_Tonight is not your time, unless that is something you wish for. Fate is not an easy thing to change, however._

The god offered no other explanation. Instead, it turned with its back to Lance and sunk itself back into the pond before them, still remaining close. Each stride disappeared the stark white of its body under the surface of the water until the only thing left viewable was the crown of dark antlers. Lance didn’t dare move, still too surprised by the existence of such a creature before him and the information that it provided him.

If he was not to die here tonight, then what else could possibly happen? Why would the God show himself? Was this all a trick?

Lance was pulled back from his thoughts at the sound of water sloshing in front of him. He’d been staring at the sand, eyebrows pushed together in a frown and his hands still slightly shaking from nerves. His gaze lifted, expecting the great deer once more, but was met with something else entirely. 

“I’m sorry, I forget that is not the most welcoming form. Perhaps you’ll be more at ease with this?”

The sinking feeling in his gut was suddenly replaced with a different one, twisting and disorienting as one siphoned away and the other filled quickly in. Before him was a man...or at least, an approximation. Handsome, far more than was fair, really, if Lance had to compare him to the men that were available back in the village. The white of his former body translated into the shortly cut hair atop his head, the maze of black antlers smaller and less intimidating but still foreign in place what seemed to mostly be a human body. Before he gave himself permission, Lance looked further down, wide shoulders and impressively built upper body bare save for a litter of scars and an oddly wrapped right arm, a ragged coil of shredded burgundy cloth tightly wound across the whole forearm save for the fingers below it. His eyes naturally shifted lower until they were met with what appeared to be the rest of where the transformation halted, because Lance was met with thick, black fur and hooves once more and he’d never darted his eyes away from anything that fast in his life.

He hoped the heat in his cheeks was not as obvious as the burn that he felt in that moment.

“Perhaps not… you’ll have to forgive me, this is as much as I can afford.”

“No! No, I…, please. I was just, I’ve never seen... I don’t mean any offense. I just wasn’t expecting... _that_ , or anything really, I…” Lance couldn’t summon the strength to look back up, dead-set on staring at the seemingly normal sand below.

“You were not expecting? Has the village finally discarded the one true history it has?” 

Lance wasn’t sure how to answer such a heavy question, nor was he sure how to give it correctly to a God in the first place. What more could he say that the one before him didn’t already know? The stories were about him, although they never mentioned anything like this. 

The silence quickly felt like too much, his hesitation and fear driving him to clench his fists tight enough to imprint angry half-moons into his palms. Lance only ceased when large hands wrapped around his wrists, the action causing him to jerk back for a moment. The one before him offered a soft apology before Lance relaxed in his grip. It was only then that he looked up, worried eyes taking in, first, the way that his fingers trembled against the hold.

He knelt before Lance, unnatural legs folded and tucked, keeping enough space between himself and the scared boy in front of him. It seemed that he’d been here many times before, just like this.

“I am not here to hurt you, I simply would like to know what you know. Tales morph with time, as does worship. You do not believe me that you’ll keep your life tonight, do you?”

There was a tired sort of resignation in his voice, one that plucked at Lance’s heart in a way he could not fully understand. This being could surely end his life. Lance bet that his antlers alone were sharp enough to impale him with one swift motion, even in this form. And yet, the God held him softly now, firm but without any force, the grip having already tilted his palms up to smooth his fingers down, sure thumbs rubbing against the angry marks that Lance had given himself. 

He wished he knew if Keith had been here. If he’d knelt before the same God or if he stood tall and waited to see what sort of fated words would come his way.

“I...don’t know everything, only what they’ve passed down. Some things...we’ve learned, through the old texts, ones we weren’t allowed to.” Lance paused, chancing one look up and being met with that intense, interested golden gaze once more. Like this, it didn't seem as scary, so he continued.

“We must not come into the woods. Those who do, never return. You must be of age to travel the path to the outside alone. Even then, you should never stray, never into the woods. They used to...give offerings, for the harvest, for protection too. I’ve only ever seen gifts of food and flowers on the old altar, but I’ve...long before my time, the offering was more. Never a child, but always someone freshly of age.”

Lance swallowed down his nerves, uncertain now as the soothing touches along his damaged palms stopped.

“We don’t speak of what we think we see in the woods. Even that is forbidden, but I have... _had_ a friend, he’d always see things. He left and then I was alone, and then I started seeing, dreaming...of you, I suppose? I didn’t know why, and I never knew why he left me, but tonight, all I could assume was that a new sacrifice was needed, maybe the offerings were no longer favorable. I have a family, I want them to grow old and be protected in our home. If this is my fate so that they can retain theirs, well, maybe I am still afraid, but I won’t run.”

Lance let go a deep sigh, one he did not realize he was holding anxiously in. He worried his fingers together, each curling back to the center of his palms without thought. Silently, the one before him stopped his path, smoothing over once more and then leaning forward enough that their foreheads nearly touched. True to his word, Lance did not run.

“Thank you. Some of that rings true, but not all. I am the one that you speak of, but your village’s offerings to my altar are plenty. It is true for those of age, and that should always remain no matter how the tale is woven, but this is a rule I alone instilled. Those who come here only have two possible paths: stay with me, or leave on the other side, never to return to the village, and never to remember what they’ve seen of me. You can imagine what a harsh fate that is on a child- at least those of age can carry themselves in the world.”

Lance only nodded, but something left unanswered bothered him, even as he felt his body finally relax.

“...Why did you call me then, here? Why, in the Fall, did you take him away from me? Did he wish it? He could have just left the village by the trail and leave for good...why the woods? Did you… are you going to…”

Another bout of fear was worming itself thickly between Lance’s rib cage but was suddenly dispelled with the stark sound of new laughter so close to his ear. 

“Why indeed? For some, knowledge is more important than the threat of death. For others, they are sometimes limited in how they can share that knowledge with the ones they care for the most. I did not take him, just like I will not take you. I will extend the same options to you as I did to him, as I would to anyone- the choice is yours.”

Both routes were still a sacrifice in Lance’s opinion, but neither was a promise to end his life, so comparatively, he was doing far better than in the young moments of setting foot here. He wanted desperately to ask, which did Keith choose? Lance liked to think an answer one way or another wouldn’t sway his decision but it had been months and he yearned to know, to share this experience somehow that he had no choice but to continue. If Keith left on the other side, would it be too late now? Would he have traveled so far away that Lance would never find him? Or did he stay? Why would he pick that over anything else? Was it just Lance’s mind forcing his dreams into a shape that was hopeful? Was that second set of glowing eyes real?

“You’ll not tell me, I suppose, before I give you my word- if he is alive? Or happy… or far away, perhaps living his days by the ocean?”

Another chuckle came, this time much closer, and this time, paired with the softest touch of a forehead against his own. Again, Lance did not run, some deep part of him understanding that he was at the mercy of this being and it was ok.

“Assumptions are never promised to be true. I’ll show you what you wish to know.”

Before Lance had a moment to ask how that could possibly happen, while still tucked into this standstill hidden oasis, a bright flash filled his vision and left him feeling blind even after he closed his eyes against it. He struggled for a moment, overwhelmed and scared until those soothing fingers skirted from his palms up to his arms, the steady press of the forehead against his grounding him while a soft voice echoed in his mind, telling him to relax.

The flash quickly ebbed away, replaced with a soft white glow, a strange film of unrecognizable distance and time as a single memory flicked its way slowly through his head. There, half hidden between long branches and bright leaves, the sun reflecting and bouncing between the small early morning drops of dew that collected on each, was the single person Lance hoped with all of his heart was still alive. The memory was short, a few seconds at best, replaying and offering something new to focus on each time. His hair, longer than last October, pressed into a short, sloppy braid along one shoulder. His eyes were still the same deep, uncommon color but they shined gold when he turned to peer at something that stole his attention away. Antlers, the same rich black as the God that sat before Lance now, just small, barely sharp nubs sprouting up between those unruly locks of his hair. And finally, perhaps the most important of all, his surprised smile, simple and understated, but so very obviously Keith that Lance felt a deep sadness when the memory faded away and he was left once more to deal with the choice before him.

He pulled away from the God, strangely out of breath and unstable, his eyes searching for some sort of other answer that would never come, many that he knew would never be true. Lance knew the dangers of trusting those above mortal men. This could all be manufactured visions, Lance could be walking right to his death still, but…

“He’s…he had…”

Lance was only given a curt nod as he felt fingers slip away from his skin. The God waited before him, hand extended and patient for his guest to take it and seal his fate.

“I’ve shown you what you desired, now you must choose. Will you stay or leave?”

The time to mull over his fate had passed long ago, perhaps even before he set foot into the forest. It would be nice to imagine the best outcome, Keith waiting for him just on the outskirts of the other side, months spent preparing for the new journeys they’d be allowed after such a touching reunion. Lance knew how silly it sounded, knew in the deepest part of his being that something like that was just not a feasible reality, that some part of him truly believed the one before him had shared a real memory. That Keith was safe, alive...but not free.

He forced himself to be brave at this moment, fleetingly wondering if the God could read his thoughts and simply wanted Lance to go through all of the ritualistic motions. His grasp came first, only slightly less shaky than how his mind felt, not an answer but a clear indication of acceptance. Either way he chose, his life was now in the hands of another, officially.

“If...if I stay…” It took all of what was left of him to look up, to meet the glowing, mirthful eyes of his future and prove that he really was a man, someone of age kneeled properly before a deity. “Will I be safe? I’ll live? Will I still be whole? Will I be me?”

And he was met with a smile, not one full of evil intentions or devious plans, not one all the books and old ladies in the village warned him of. A true one, soft and understanding. A smile that meant such a question was not new to him and certainly welcomed.

“You’ll be safe under my protection. You will remain the same, but no longer with any worldly fears nor apprehensions. If you accept this, speak it now, to me and to yourself.”

A strange sort of comfort wrapped itself tightly around him, the gentle way that his hand was still clasped, the commanding, sure words that were spoken to him but softly enough that Lance felt at home instead of scared. It could be much worse, he thought. He could be dead already, sacrificed in ways that dragged out agony and suffering. What was being offered seemed like a dream, even if he wasn’t sure what was entailed to obtain it. The memory of Keith came once more and Lance couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what all of this meant. Was this what Keith had chosen in the end? If he chose the same, did that mean he’d see him now? Was it possible, was it so far-fetched to think that second beckoning pair of eyes belonged to…

“I accept.” It fell so easy from his lips, as if it was spoken without his permission, but in reality, it was forced by no other than his own true wants and needs.

The smile stretched wider and the God pressed forward quickly, fingers of his free hand gliding gently along the line of Lance’s chin.

“This is what I’ve hoped for but even a God cannot go against his own rules. I’ve been watching you for some time, Lance, admiring from the woods. I promise to uphold all that I’ve said, but first, we must fulfill the ceremony to seal your fate to me.”

Lance always wondered where the sense of power came from in all of the tales passed down. The absoluteness of law, the hushed way the God was spoken of. Even the crude drawings and depictions of what would happen if a human went against his wishes. It was here now, right in front of him, like strong waves but the fear of drowning in them was missing. His hand was contained in the soft grip of the other’s and without question he stood, all of Lance’s self-impressive height no longer worth mentioning compared to the God. It took him a few moments to catch up, so mystified and distracted by what was before him, that the words given were only now sinking in.

“Ceremony? Is it like the offerings for a good harvest? I didn’t bring anything, I left so quickly…”

Each slow step brought them closer to the water, time clearly of no importance in the vacuum of space that existed here. He turned, throwing toward him what Lance could only translate as a knowing smirk, and tipped his crowned head towards clear blue.

“Your offerings in the village once a year are a bit different. You’ve brought yourself and that is all which is needed. This ceremony, over all of the years, is the only one that has remained intact.”

Lance could only frown, trying to recall any stories of old, outdated ceremonies and coming up blank. For as long as he could remember, and surely before he was born, the offerings were simple gifts, trinkets crafted from hand, flowers braided into thick loops, and aged fruits in jars from the previous year to show gratitude, proof that the harvest had helped in abundance.

“You only need me? But they’ve always taught...each gift has symbolism and meaning passed down. I don’t understand how I could fulfill that...I’m just...”

They were deep enough now that the small ripples of movement lapped against Lance’s knees, the water indecipherable from the temperature of the air around them. The God had stopped, still along the outer ring of the pond, the middle surely deeper as Lance had seen all of the great deer’s form dive below. He was watching him once more, the smallest tell of a smile at the corner of his lips as he pulled Lance closer, both palms shifting to slide against each cheek and press away the worry at his brow.

“The oldest ceremonies are the most simple. All that is needed is you. You have all that I want and I will be the one to help you draw it forth.”

He pressed forward once more and Lance was expecting another shared memory from the movement. He was instead met with gentle lips against his, fingers drifting further to dance along his nape and curl under an ear. The embarrassment was immediate, lips frozen in place even as the God gave him time, no rude comment or annoyed huff. For all that he’d thought would happen to him if he entered the forest, this was not one of the possibilities that had ever crossed his mind.

The God eased back slowly, one thumb trailing over the soft wetness of Lance’s bottom lip and offered him a gentle smile as he struggled to collect himself.

“Do you understand now? What we must do.”

Lance looked away, knowing his face was surely red and his trembling unattractive; he was of age but still far from an adult in many ways.

“I’ve not...I haven’t, yet. I mean, I know of things, and how, but I haven’t ever…and I don’t even know what to call you...”

And as some miracle, the god before him had infinite patience because that smile did not drop and neither did his hold on Lance.

“That matters not- in fact, it’s preferable. As for my name, I’ve had many over the years. Tell me, what do they call me still within the village?”

They crept closer while he spoke, slowly wading toward the strange tree, its tendrils of leaves glowing a soft white. Lance could only follow, tethered by hand and the strange promise that his inexperience was somehow going to make any of this better. He’d be lying to himself if he said it wasn’t enticing. This god before him was not the first man he’d gazed upon and thought secret, indecent things about, but he’d never had the opportunity to explore. He’d never had anything other than fleeting moments alone and thoughts of slivers of pale skin while changing, common moments of nudity among those of his age during activities that he secretly hid away in his mind for later use.

None of them could hold a candle to the example of masculinity that guided him now to a shallow spot at the base of the great tree.

“Cernunnos, that is what is written, what the songs still chant. I’ve found no other name.”

That steady smile widened, the God backing him up to a comfortable alcove where the sand was soft and the water was low.

“It is nice to know that such a thing was not lost, but I have amassed many names throughout the decades. Currently, if you wish, I’ve grown fond of Shiro.”

Those strong, large hands were guiding once again, fingers pressing lightly against Lance’s shoulders as the God moved to kneel down once more.

“Shiro. That certainly is easier to say. I’ve always worried I was mispronouncing the name and you’d know somehow, like blasphemy,” Lance rambled, his nervousness showing as he willingly went down further into the water.

He was granted a secluded chuckle, Shiro helping him deeper into the water so that his bottom half was submerged, but his back laid against the surprisingly soft sand. Lance still felt awkward, unsure of what to do with his hands and how to properly please a God. That much, he’d gathered, was about to happen. Again, compared to the fate he’d assumed of himself earlier tonight, this was far preferable but that didn’t ease his nerves. He found it difficult once more to meet that golden gaze and only did so when firm fingers tilted his chin front and center.

Before him, half hidden in the still pool of clear water, Shiro knelt, his eyes searching for something Lance could never understand in this moment, not anything he’d grasp until long after. 

“I know there is not much I can do to ease your initial apprehension, but please, do not pressure yourself to impress me. This ceremony is about you. I am only here to assist.”

It was hard for Lance to believe that but he nodded still, figuring it was easier to just try and maybe fail instead of angering the God with denial. It was far past the point of hiding himself now, his sleep pants already feeling tight despite the warm water that soaked through every layer and left him feeling vulnerable in a way he could not describe.

He said nothing more and Shiro took it as confirmation to begin the ceremony, his hands slipping from Lance’s shoulders to slide into the water and tug at the thin ties along his waist which held his trousers up. 

Lance found himself unreasonably tense, his eyes locked closed as he felt sure fingers pull the strings apart and loosen the top enough that it floated gently between them. They tugged further around the top, the garment slipping easily from his body with the aid of the wetness he sat in. He wore nothing underneath, now nude save for the thin cotton top reserved only for bedtime, what was left dry of it not aiding in hiding the lithe shape of his body.

“I know you are still fearful. Please, will you let me know what I can do to ease that? Whatever you desire, I can grant within reason.”

Wet fingers pressed along his temple in a soothing, sweeping motion and Lance met golden eyes once more, trying to convince himself to dredge up some small well of strength in confidence. He’d always assumed his first encounter would be less romantic and more fumbling and clunky, but he never considered it would be paired with someone far more experienced or, well, godly.

He tried to think of it more realistically and less in the realm of some sacred ancient ceremony to seal his fate via copulation. He wouldn’t want his partner frozen in fear or unresponsive, which was currently what his own body was doing. Even if they were shy and uncertain, he’d want to foster an environment that was relaxing and welcoming. All things Shiro was or had provided already and Lance was still struggling to have courage in himself to be a worthy partner.

What did he desire? If all embarrassment was erased and he’d traversed into the woods to find this perfect example of man and beast, what would his needs call to first?

“Can I...may I touch you? If it’s allowed, with the ceremony I wasn’t sure if…” And although his voice wavered and came out as a near whisper, Shiro clasped Lance’s wrist between fingers and drew it up to his chest without any hesitation. 

He pressed forward, Lance’s thighs parting in the water below, the slightest pricklings of fur brushing against his exposed skin. He swallowed uneasily, eyes stuck on the spot of his own hand looking so small compared to the wide expanse of the chest before him. It was hard not to feel inferior, to feel like he still wasn’t worthy to even be in the presence of someone so beautiful. His fingers curled lightly, the smallest pressure meeting the unyielding muscle as he swept each digit slowly over old scars and marks that surely held some grand stories of battle and strength.

Lance looked up from his awed focus, Shiro’s smile somehow fond although they’d only just met. He came closer, displacing the water between them to slot himself in the inviting space Lance had made from him subconsciously. Around them, the water hummed with a gentle glow akin to the tree above, a soft light that grew so slowly it was hard to notice at all. 

Shiro dipped his crowned head lower, lips finding the unmarred skin of Lance’s neck and planted a trail of blazing kisses to his shoulder, huffing a delighted laugh as Lance immediately shifted to wrap arms and legs around his bulking form.

“At war with yourself? You should not feel ashamed for any desire that shows. You are safe here, with me.”

And if Lance assumed before this that Shiro only repeated those words to lure unsuspecting humans into his grasp, that was no longer the case because he did, in fact, feel very safe and secure with the God shielding his form and enclosing around him.

Despite his surely red face, Lance tightened his legs around the soft fur at Shiro’s waist and dug his blunt nails against the hard muscle at his shoulders, shivering when he felt something hard and persistent nudge against his own undeniably excited lap in the water below.

His nightshirt still clung to his torso, the water now soaked completely through and Shiro took it upon himself to bunch it up higher, the thin material piling around Lance’s neck as Shiro smoothed his hands along each side, fingers trailing along ribs and down to sharp hips. Lance was the first to make any move, much to his horror, as his body jolted to grind against Shiro’s when those hands gripped even a little at the smooth wet skin along his lower back.

He tried to pull away, the tiny heated gasp he let escape making him want to crawl back into the forest and await a new death. Shiro was having none of it and simply returned the motion as his lips trailed back up to suck at the junction of shoulder and neck.

“The water aids,” he mentioned, offhand, as if they weren’t nude in a pond about to disperse Lance’s virginity, “In more ways than one. The pond is not just for the illusion of splendor.”

Lance would have asked for clarification if it weren’t for those devious fingers delving deeper, exploring the spot that he could only think now would be where his own pert deer tail would reside if he too were a God as well. But they kept going, the crimson-wrapped palm securely rested against his hip and the other pressing at a spot that Lance would deny that he’d ever explored himself. He held his breath, clung tighter to Shiro as he anticipated pain and discomfort, knowing his own fingers were thin and slender in comparison, and hid his face against Shiro’s shoulder. 

Instead, all he was gifted was a firm pressure, an uneasy feeling of being carefully pried open and a pleased hum from above him that shot warmth through his body like he’d never experienced before. Shiro rutted against him in the water, small ripples waving outwards in ringlets of light, the thick length rubbing against Lance’s own in time to the movements of his fingers pressing in. 

Shiro was benevolent and insistent all at once, his direction easy for Lance to latch to as he rode out the experience of being stretched by someone else. He found himself slowly rocking back to meet him, toes curling in delight every time Shiro let his own pleasure be known. Before long, soft moans began to tumble from him, needy sounds as his body pressed closer and his hands slid from back to shoulders. 

The echoed meaning of _‘more ways than one’_ flickered through Lance’s mind as he mouthed at the clean skin that his face was pressed to. He no longer felt fear nor hesitance, the shyness that had wrapped around him more of a thin veil now as he struggled to feel the fingers inside press deeper and stretch him wide. He wanted more, hit with the realization that he wished to provide Shiro with pleasure as well instead of only providing what was needed to complete the ceremony. But could he ask? Was it taboo to request things of the one who had fed his village well year after year?

“ _S-Shiro_ ,” Managed to escape through the haze, those golden eyes that regarded him somehow stronger, casting overflowing light down across the thick scar drawing across his features.

“Too much? There is no rush in this, all you need is to ask and I…”

Lance shook his head, heels digging harder at the dip of the god’s back as he pouted at the loss of movement below. “No. It isn’t too much, it’s...not enough. Please...I want to…”

And at least now, Lance could always look back at this moment and brag that he’d seen the look of surprise across a God's face. It took all his courage to get those words out and in the end, it did pay off because not three seconds later, Shiro was ravaging him, the grip at Lance’s hip stronger and the fingers plunging into him in the water faster and much more insistent. 

Shaking hands moved from shoulder to neck. Shiro’s lips ghosted his own, teasing until he withdrew from beneath them, stealing the whine that pushed its way out at the loss of being full. He moved in a way that seemed familiar, as if he knew how to make Lance’s body sing for him, and perhaps he did. Perhaps that was the power of an ancient forest God of fertility.

Lance did his best to return the notion, unskilled and uncoordinated but excited in only the way one could be upon discovering so many things at once. He returned the sloppy kiss, let Shiro guide his mouth how he demanded it and gained the boldness to rut his hips against his. A smile broke through as his cock glided against Shiro’s and ripped a feral sound from him that surely was being held to assure Lance that he was safe. 

He pulled back, finding the gold there strong but barely given enough space to glow with how blown out his pupils had become. Be it the water or something hidden deeper in Lance’s self, he offered one last coherent word before pleasure became the only thing he knew.

“More.”

His back arched slightly, pressed steadily against a thick root of the great tree which splintered out from the soil to dive into the pool. Lance’s strength had given out quickly, his stamina only that of an inexperienced human, but Shiro made up for it and then some, easily holding him in place and thrusting up with such fervor that the ripples were a constant movement now. Each ring that spread its way across the pond gleamed brightly in time with their pleasure before fizzling out on the edges against the sand. The tree above Lance seemed to curl forward, soft glowing leaves decorating his sweaty locks and cascaded against his shoulders as he held on tight, first, to Shiro’s shoulders, and then to his crown of antlers.

Shiro took the opportunity of their position to decorate Lance’s neck with dark marks, small tributes to their coupling that would last and surely be remade in the future once their ceremony was complete. Neither held back anymore and Lance, in particular, was abundant in voicing how he felt, the trees full of the sounds of his satisfaction as he rode Shiro’s thick cock as if he’d taken it time and time before.

They weren’t so deep in the water that he couldn’t see, although the splashes and tiny waves made it difficult to watch between them. Lance tried to move, tried to heave his body up just a few more inches so he could watch the impressive length disappear over and over into his willing body, but he could only manage a struggle and groan, a tired hand slipping against black antlers. Shiro only chuckled between his own exertion, quickly scooping up his prize with a strength like no other and stood just a bit taller, hands gripping tightly at Lance’s hips to move him in time with each deep thrust. 

It was this which undid him, the sharper angle, the ease at which Shiro handled him and the way every muscle gleamed with a mix of sweat, shimmering water, and something holy. Lance froze, overwhelming pleasure as he’d never experienced pulsing through his body as he came untouched, save for the curious glowing waves that lapped up against him, crying out his God’s name and thus declaring his body and soul fully and wholly to Cernunnos. 

The fulfillment was echoed soon after, only a beat or two moments of further erratic thrusts before Shiro emptied himself deep into Lance, who now belonged to him, the entire oasis around them glowing and shining in a shared understanding that the ceremony was now complete.

Gently, he extracted Lance’s fingers from his antlers, tugging him, now exhausted, to his chest and wrapped his arms around him, wading slowly to the center of the pond. Lance clung to him like his life depended on it, legs still locked petulantly around his fur-covered hips and refusing Shiro’s attempts to remove himself from Lance below the water. He gave up, smiling instead and soothed one tired hand down the lithe, exhausted back of what would become one of the forest’s newest additions of demigods.

Shiro stood, all but his and Lance’s heads submerged, watching what would always be his favorite part of sealing the deed. Each mortal that agreed to his terms became something new but uniquely still themselves. 

Small splotches of color cascaded across Lance’s shoulders, light enough to pay homage to the hue of his messy, disheveled hair. The same color was mirrored lower as Shiro felt the tell-tale signs of freshly grown hair, soft and fuzzy of that of a newly born faun. Lance fidgeted in his arms, pulling back with a sleepy look to stare back at Shiro, a soft shine of gold ringing the brilliant blue that put the glowing water they waded in to shame. Atop his head, the first points of velvety black antlers poked through, causing Shiro to smile at him in a way that made Lance question what he was looking at.

“You’ll see in time, but you need rest first. Why don’t we go home?”

Lance nodded in agreement, his head dropping back to Shiro’s shoulder as he ran his fingers across his back, encouraging his new form to blossom and flourish as the last of the pond’s blessings seeped in. Shiro waded slowly out afterward, carrying Lance in a fashion that was not much different to how they’d been moments ago in sharing each other’s passion.

Just as he drifted off to sleep, before he let the gentle sounds of leaves shifting against their bodies as they traveled to wherever Shiro deemed home lull his tired mind to a state of unconsciousness, Lance thought he caught a distinguished glow in the distance, a familiar pair of what could be eyes, like the soft calling of a lighthouse in the stormy mist of sea that he often dreamed of when thinking back to the promises he’d made with his best friend.


End file.
